15.—The game of Dogherty claimed admiration, his appearance commiseration—his head was terrific, and his strength was nearly exhausted; nevertheless, he still forced the fighting, but his blows were of no effect, and he fell beneath the superiority of his opponent. Belcher’s half-arm hits were as swift as they were punishing, till Dogherty fell. (Any odds on Belcher.)
16 and 17.—In both these rounds the exhaustion of Dogherty was visible, and, to the honour of Belcher, be it recorded, he disdained taking any more advantage than was necessary to insure his contest: as his opponent fell on the ropes at his mercy, he walked away from him. Such humanity ought not to be forgotten.
18 and 19.—Dogherty’s spirits were good, but his stamina was exhausted; his blows did not tell, although he still stopped with considerable science. Belcher kept the lead in fine style; in closing, both men fell.
24.—Up to this round it was evident that Tom must win; but his game opponent was determined to try every effort while the least chance remained of success. Tom put in three desperate facers, and followed them by so severe a body-blow, that Dogherty fell quite bent and exhausted.
25‒33.—Dogherty, still determined, contended for eight more rounds, but was nothing more than a mere object of punishment to his opponent, who continually hit him down with ease. This could not last long, and in the thirty-third round, at the end of forty-five minutes’ sharp fighting, Belcher was declared the conqueror.
“Belcher was so little hurt,” continues the reporter, “that upon hearing of his adversary’s surrender, he immediately threw a somersault, and ran off to the Rubbing House (nearly half a mile) without stopping to put on his clothes. In this battle Belcher fought with greater skill and science, and more after the manner of his brother, than in any one he had contested. His distances were measured with exactness—every hit told. Dogherty’s only chance against such superior skill and steadiness was his sheer strength and game; but in this last Belcher showed himself his equal.”
Bill Richmond, whose memoir will appear hereafter, thrashed a countryman in the same ring.
On the 25th of October, 1808, a day memorable as that whereon Gregson was beaten after his desperate battle with Tom Cribb at Moulsey, Tom Belcher entered the same thirty-feet ring to fight Cropley for a purse of 50 guineas. At setting-to the odds were seven to four on Belcher. Cropley was seconded by Tom Jones; Dick Hall acted as his bottle-holder; and Belcher was waited on by Mendoza and Dutch Sam. The combatants were looked upon as well matched, and considerable expectation of a fine display of the art was entertained. During a contest of thirty-four rounds, which occupied fifty-six minutes—and it is but justice to observe that a more scientific fight was rarely seen—Cropley proved himself an excellent boxer, and possessed of undeniable game. But his attitude was bad; and his defeat was principally attributed to a knack of bringing his head too forward when putting in his blows. Belcher saw this advantage, and accepting the present thus made him, punished his face so dreadfully, that in the latter part of the battle Cropley was no longer recognizable. Tom’s blows, however, seem to have been rather more showy than effective, for it was with the utmost difficulty that Cropley was persuaded to give in, and he was still steady and strong; though, says the reporter, “all but blind, he even then felt desirous to try another round.”